Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 SR_Checkup_2012

   Title - Shelly's Annual Check-up 2012 - written 20 October 2012

   This was an authorship task set by Master Mark, to recount my previous
visit to my doctor for a regular check-up, as opposed to specific
healthcare.  By way of background, I have been with my current doctor since
I moved to Florida 18 years ago, and she also cares for my daughter Katie.
The doctor is aware of my lifestyle choices, and is very supportive of
them, often involving them in my regular healthcare visits and follow-up
advice.



   Part 1 - Basic Obs About a week after New Year I got a letter from my MD
telling me they had arranged an appointment for my annual check-up.  It was
about 3 weeks away, so I had time to organise medical leave from work,
going in for the morning, but leaving at lunchtime for a 1pm appointment.

   I wanted to wear something nice for the doctor, so I dressed in a lovely
undies set, jade green high cut panties with a wide lace trim along the
edges and waistband.  The matching top is a waist length camisole with
minimum support cups, and only just reaches down to my panties.  I have a
light green blouse which shows the darker color underneath, and a pale
yellow skirt to just above my knees.  The skirt is a little heavy, and
doesn't show the shape of my panties very well unless it tightens across my
butt when I bend over, but the waistband is lower on my hips than I
normally wear.  This is quite modest with my usual bikinis, but the high
cut panties reach just a shade higher up my tummy and my back than the
skirt waist.  When I'm standing up straight everything is nicely reserved,
but if I reach or bend, then my blouse and skirt part company to reveal the
dark green lace edges of both my undies and my camisole.

   On the day, I booked in with the receptionist when I arrived, taking the
questionnaire and consent forms she gave me over to a chair, where I sat
and filled them in while I waited for the doctor.  The medical history was
straightforward, at first, though how anyone my age is expected to remember
when I had Chicken Pox, or how many days absence from school I had with
illness, is beyond me.  The second page began to get a bit more intimate,
asking for details of my puberty, when my breasts first developed, my age
and size of my first bra, my age and final bra size on leaving school.  It
moved on to pubic hair development and grooming, onset of first period,
then any problems in development.  I listed my resilient hymen, and then
excessive lubrication (which is still a problem as I can feel my quim
getting slick as I answer these questions).

   The final page was incredibly immoral, not only asking about my sexual
experience, when and how often I masturbated, had oral, vaginal and anal
sex, but also a complete list of alternative and extreme practices.  I
ticked lesbian, bi-sexual, submissive, incest, and exhibitionist, then
tried to fill in an account of my sexual encounters over the last year. 
Strangely enough, there wasn't enough space, and I had to ask the
receptionist if she had some more paper, but she said that wouldn't be
necessary as the doctor was ready to see me now.

   Dr Forrest asked me to be seated beside her desk, then chatted for a few
minutes about how I was generally, my work, home life, family, and
particularly about Katie, my lovely daughter.  I answered her questions
about Katie's presentation last year, which she was particularly pleased
about because it opened up another avenue of her research study now that
Katie had given up her virginity.  Once the social chat was complete, the
doctor went through my questionnaire, most of which she knew anyway since
she's been my MD ever since we moved to Florida and Katie had to have some
physical exam forms to enter kindergarten.

   I was told to stand up and remove my skirt, then my blouse, then Dr
Forrest said how nice my underwear looked, and complimented me on choosing
something so pretty.  She stood up and checked my eyes, mouth and throat,
then looked in my ears with that funny light thing, which looks like a mini
speculum, telling my to hold still, and placing her hand on my right tittie
to steady me.  Taking her stethoscope, she listened to my chest, starting
at my throat and working downwards, slipping her hand into the top of my
camisole, right down to my hardening nipples.  Pulling the stethoscope out,
but leaving her fingers playing with my teat, Dr Forrest began to squeeze
the nubbin quite painfully, making me pull my shoulders back.

   Placing her finger under my chin so she could tip my head back till I
was looking into her eyes, the doctor said, "I do hope you're going to
cooperate Michelle.  You know that doctor knows best, don't you young
lady?"

   Dropping my head, and speaking softly, I answered, "Yes Miss, I'll do as
I'm told." She now knew that I was under her control, and would obey
anything I was told to do for the rest of my visit.

   She asked me to raise the front of my camisole to just above my nipples,
and continued to listen to the remainder of my chest, heart and lungs. 
Stepping behind me, she began pressing her fingers into my body, sometimes
quite hard, other times with a feather touch, especially on my ticklish
spots.  If I squirmed, she would give me a hard spank on my bottom, telling
me to keep still, and then resume tormenting me.  When she got lower, the
doctor slipped her hands into my panties, her thumbs working towards my
pubic mound, while her fingers slid into the top of my girlcleft.  Gently
working her thumbs across my lower tummy, she mapped out how swollen my
bladder was, which was pretty near full, since I wasn't allowed to visit
the restroom for two hours before my appointment.  Wriggling her fingers
into place, Dr Forrest took a firm grip of my whole pubic area, pulling my
slit up and apart, while she dug her thumbs hard into my bladder.  She
would ease off for a few seconds then dig in hard again, working her thumbs
deeper into my tummy.  I warned her that I was getting desperate for the
restroom, but she told me to hold it, and relax my tummy.  The next time
she gave a quick press, I felt a tiny jet of pee being forced out, then
half a dozen more as I moaned with each one, feeling the front part of my
panties growing damp.

   Taking her hands out of my panties, she phoned the nurse, and told her
to take me to the toilet and bring back a urine sample.  I could see my
refection in the mirror, and a dark patch was very visible where I had been
forced to wet myself.  The nurse soon arrived, taking my hands up into the
small of my back, holding them in place, and walking me up the corridor to
the restroom at the far side of the waiting room.  There was another
restroom in the opposite direction, much closer to Dr Forrest's office, but
I was rarely taken to that one.  As we walked through reception I could see
there were a couple of guys sitting with their partners, three ladies with
their teenage daughters, and all of them watching as I walked past.  The
nurse stopped at the front desk, gently turning me so that I faced everyone
else, telling the receptionist she was taking me for a urine sample, so
she'd be back in a couple of minutes.

   The restroom was occupied, but we only had to wait a few seconds, then
another nurse came out leading a young girl by the elbow, and exchanged a
few words about being on "Pee Duty", and "Getting all the good jobs." At
least I had my camisole and panties on, even though they were damp, but
this girl looked about 14 years old, and was completely naked, her tittie
bumps just rising from her chest, and the faintest hint of light brown fur
under her tummy.  She looked really cute, but she was clearly very
uncomfortable, and I remembered Katie telling me how she felt the same when
she was taken for a restroom break when she younger.  Then they were gone,
and I was shown into the toilet, the nurse standing outside, holding the
door open as she told me to pass my panties to her, and pee into one of the
paper cups on the side.  After my sample, I got rid of the rest of my water
down the toilet, wiped, and was escorted back to the doctor, this time with
only one hand held behind my back.  My other hand was busy holding my
sample cup, and my lower half was now on full display to everyone, as the
nurse held my damp panties in her other hand.

   I can't remember ever having used the restroom there without an escort,
and never while fully dressed, but that's always been part of the way they
do things at the clinic.  It had been the same for Katie when she needed
the restroom, and she'd had the same apprehensive look on her face as that
other girl for the first few years, but then she grew accustomed to it, and
if she had to go, she even asked if she was to undress first.

   My weight and height were the next on the list, which meant I had to
remove my camisole, not that it made much difference, but it did leave me
totally naked while I stood on the scales in front of the open door. 
Several of the people from the waiting room walked past, on their way to
the restroom I couldn't use, and having seen me in my camisole and panties,
then just my camisole, now they can see me clad in nothing at all.  As
always, this sets my cunny flooding even more than it has already.

   I'm asked to step off the scale, turn my back to the door, and bend over
with my feet shoulder width apart, so that all my most private places
protrude between my thighs, then Dr Forrest takes my temperature in the
good old fashioned way, rectally.  Predictably, it's not the standard
thermometer that is inserted, but a much larger one that Dr Forrest once
told me she obtained from a veterinary friend of hers.  He must have been a
horse doctor from the feel of the glass rod wedged into my bottom.  When I
take Katie's temperature I just leave the thermometer in for a few minutes,
take it out and read it, but the doctor was never satisfied that it was
positioned correctly, so she was constantly pushing it and out, twirling it
round, or pressing it much deeper.  When she finally removed it, the
reading was noted on my chart, then a cuff inflated round my arm to take my
blood pressure, which was duly noted as well, and we moved on to the next
section of my check-up.

   Part 2 - The Breast Exam.

   Dr Forrest had me sit on the exam table, left arm raised up, then gently
felt the glands under my arm, pressed my left breast to check for lumps,
working her way from my ribs to the nipple, which was growing harder with
each caress.  She repeated the procedure on my right side, leaving me with
two chapel hat pegs that throbbed with each beat of my pulse.  She cupped
the underside of both my titties in her hand, bouncing them, occasionally
flicking her thumbs across my teats, then she gripped each globe, with her
thumb on top, and began twisting.  By the time she'd achieved nearly a
quarter turn I had almost lifted myself off the table, trying to ease the
mounting pain in my breasts, then she returned them to their normal
position.  She manipulated them gently for a while, then gripped me tightly
once more, and rotated my tits the other way, holding them for several
seconds, then twisted my breasts in opposite directions.  First she rotated
the tops inward to their full extent, then turned them outwards, nodding
her head, and Mmm'ing thoughtfully, as doctors do while they manhandle
their poor helpless patients.

   Finally she seemed satisfied, letting my throbbing titties rest on my
chest, telling me I'd lost a little bit of firmness over the last year, but
I was still very good for my age, considering I'd had a child, and wasn't
always gentle in the way I treated my breasts.  She asked when was the last
time I had my tits bound, which had been several months before, if I'd had
any problems with them at the time, other than the discomfort I had
intended to inflict, which I hadn't.  After a few seconds thought, she said
that perhaps I ought to have a constriction test, bringing over a pair of
narrow blood pressure cuffs, and wrapping one around each of my tits, close
up against my chest.  She pumped them up in turn, till they were secure,
checking with her stethoscope against each globe as it grew firmer, till
both tits felt ready to explode.  Dr Forrest made a few notes on my chart,
pressed a contact thermometer against each of my tits, then made more
notes.

   I thought she was going to release them now, but she reached for the
rubber bulb to give each cuff an extra pump instead, then lowered the back
of the table, telling me it was time for my pelvic exam, and she'd get back
to my titties later.  Not too much later, I hoped.



   Part 3 - The Pelvic Exam

   I wasn't laid completely flat, Dr Forrest likes her patients to see what
she's doing to them, especially when she uses the larger, more threatening
equipment, so with my shoulders raised slightly, I had a perfect view as
she began to stroke my bare cunt.  Normally Dr Forrest works slightly to
the left hand side, and has a video camera mounted on the right side of the
stirrups, which feeds to a large TV screen, where it is easily seen by the
patient on the exam table.  Not only could I feel her warm fingers on my
outer lips as she pressed and squeezed them, I could see every detail on
the screen, even a picture-in-picture which showed a close up that centered
on her hands.  The one problem with this video system, is that I could also
see the thick girl spunk as she peeled my slit apart, tutting with apparent
disapproval as strings of white juice pulled from her fingers, and she
wiped them on my hairless mound.

   Moving on to the internal, she slid her index finger into my vagina,
feeling the walls of my tunnel, then replaced them with her two middle
fingers, so she could reach upward to my G-spot, stroking it really gently.
Dr Forrest is an expert at this; it must have been a special elective at
medical school, because I can feel the area engorging with each touch,
which only makes it even more sensitive.  Within minutes I'm on the verge
of orgasm, but she moves to the bottom of my cunt now, pushing another
finger up my arse, so she can feel the thin wall between my two
passageways, and my excitement level drops down.  That seems to be it for
now, as the doctor puts more notes on my chart, then goes over to one of
her cabinets, the end one, which I call her toy box, though not to the
doctor.

   She has loaded several things onto a small cart, and brings it over to
the side of the table, where I can see it clearly, a row of six gleaming
steel speculums, all different sizes, from a cute one 4 inches long, which
I hope she'll use on me, up to something a vet might use, which I
definitely DON'T want her to use on me.  It doesn't matter how many times
Dr Forrest plays this game with me, I always feel a flood of relief when
she picks up the smallest one, even though I know she's not going to use
it, even the times she actually rests it against my dripping slit, yet I
imagine the tiny legs sliding inside, and opening me up.  At the last
moment, she always shakes her head, and mutters under her breath, "No, we
need something bigger", and picks up the massive one, a cruel grin on her
face.  While the earlier doomed relief was intense, the terror I feel at
the thought of this huge metal wedge being forced into my little bare
cunny, is actually palpable.  It's the same situation as the small
speculum; I know the doctor is not going to use it, but just the touch
against my lips makes me suck my stomach in, as if I could turn myself
inside out.  Well, outside in, actually.

   "Don't worry Shelly," she says quietly, but instead of saying she'll use
a smaller one, I hear, "I'm sure we can make it fit today, since you are so
very juicy," and the corners of the blades are pushed into my slit.  My
blood pounds in my head as the cold metal slides up and down between my
slick petals, the doctor puts it down, pushes two fingers into me and pulls
my cunt open top to bottom, stretching it painfully long.  Quickly the
doctor's fingers are repositioned, and I'm forced to spread sideways, then
lengthways once more, and the blades are rubbed into my entrance again.  By
hooking a corner in the bottom of my slit, then pulling the top of my slit
with one of her slim fingers, Dr Forrest manages to shoehorn the first inch
of the blades inside me.  It feels like I've got a book wedged in my cunt.
The doctor plays about with the screw that opens the blades, giving it a
half turn, then back again, opening and closing my love mouth as I watch on
the monitor, my skin stretched thin and white.  I'm expecting to see my
cunt tear open, like ripping a piece of cloth, either splitting my arse, or
a wide crevice open right up through my mound, my torn clit hanging on one
side.

   "Maybe not," says the doctor, and I sigh with real relief this time,
"We'll just have this one out," at which she drags the massive intruder
straight out of my straining cunt leaving me empty, "and pop this one in
its place." She picks up number four from the row of speculums, which is
still pretty big, carefully places the blades just inside my entrance,
turns them over, then pushes the steel wedge straight in.  "1, 2, 3," and
it's pressing into my cervix, the handle squashing my clit, and I'm panting
as if I'm in labor.  "There little girl," she says, "didn't I tell you it
would fit.  Now open wide."

   Usually Dr Forrest gives me time to adapt to the speculum, letting my
muscles settle for a moment before moving on, but it seems my poor cunny is
out of luck today, and she squeezes the handles together taking the blades
well over half way apart.  I hear the click of the ratchet being engaged,
followed by two more clicks as I feel the top of my cunt press against my
bladder, and the bottom push against the inside of my arse.  After a quick
look into my wide spread cunny, she says, "Nope, still can't see a thing
yet.  Maybe we need a bit more." Three more clicks of the ratchet, then a
further two, and it seems I'm splitting open, deep inside my tummy.  The
doctor presses into my tummy, tracking where the steel leaf is inside, then
two fingers go deep up my arse, working round the other side of my internal
spreader, till she gives a satisfied nod.  Her fingers poke about inside
the enormous cavern that used to be my little puss, pressing here and there
on places I didn't know I had, some of them painful, some just
uncomfortable, and disappointingly few that are intensely sexual.

   Stroking the smooth skin of my mound, Dr Forrest puts on her sickly
sweet voice, "Now then Mommy's little Princess, I think it's time you had a
Pap test to make sure there are no nasty bugs lurking in that soggy little
slot down there." Sitting on her little stool, the doctor adjusted the
camera to record right inside my vagina, the cervix clearly visible
nestling in the bottom, then the spatula pressed against the central
depression, turned round several times.  The small brush was inserted next,
slowly it penetrated through the closed mouth of my womb, stinging as it
pulled off a layer of tissue, then it too was turned a couple of
revolutions as it was pushed deeper inside.  Getting that over was a
relief, as it's something I don't like, not just due to the pain, because
it isn't that bad really, it's more the poking and prodding that's
distressing.  For most of the Pap tests I've had Dr Forrest will give me a
climax first, or else take my pain level a lot higher, so the penetration
for the test is hardly noticeable.

   Leaving my cunt spread wide open, the doctor checks my constricted
titties, and gives them another couple of pumps, squeezing them even
harder. The smear test suddenly seems not so big a problem.

   Dr Forrest wants to check my piercings next, but the handles of the
speculum are in the way, so she lets it down a small way, then slowly turns
it the other way up, so the handle presses against my anal rosebud.  Of
course she now cranks it wide open again.  I have two piercings in my
clitoral hood, one on each side, slightly below the centre line of my
clitoral shaft, so the rings I wear through them rub against the underside
of my clit, as if lifting it up.  I had them done by Dr Forrest when she
prepped Katie for losing her virginity, Master Mark was with us, and had
asked for Katie to be given a vertical hood piercing, then decided it would
be good for me to have a piercing as well, although I ended up with two of
them.

   She maneuvered the rings first, checking that they slid easily through
the holes, that the piercings hadn't become too enlarged, or torn if the
rings had been caught on something.  Everything seemed to be going along OK
so she removed both rings, and examined my hood a bit closer.  During the
piercing, the doctor had already eased the hood away from the base of my
clit, having decided that it was a little too tight for the double rings,
and there was no sign of any scarring at all round my clit.  Stroking my
already stiff love button to full solidity, Dr Forrest fastened a small
suction tube to its tip, and then tied the tube back to the two straps
round my knees till I felt like my clit was being pulled out of my body.

   I watched on the monitor as she used a selection of scrapers to ease the
skin of my hood away from where it joined to the base of my clitoral shaft,
and she zoomed the camera right in to where she was working.  It was a
little bit more painful than when she'd done it originally, but bearable,
and Dr Forrest showed me where a section of skin had been teased away from
the underside of my clit.  Another quarter inch of my clit had been
exposed, where the hood had now been drawn further back, rather like
retracting a man's foreskin.  The doctor worked for another fifteen
minutes, as if she were pushing back the cuticle on my nails, but in a much
more delicate area, and at the end, she had separated my hood all the way
round.  It was very sensitive, but when she pressed down and outward at the
side on my clit, I could clearly see where the stem grew out of the very
bottom of my girl cleft.

   Conclusion

   She rubbed some cream into my clit and under the hood to help the
healing, slid a small dressing like a Life-Saver mint over my shaft, right
down to the base, then used Micropore tape to seal the top of my slit
closed, and hold it in place.  I was given strict instructions not to play
with my pussy for three days, and to spread my lips with my fingers when I
pee'd, to try and keep the area as dry as possible.

   I was released from the table, and the cuffs removed from my aching
titties, which were just starting to turn blue, then Dr Forrest massaged
the circulation back into them, which had me whimpering till the pain
subsided.  The doctor watched as I dressed, telling me to carry my panties
on top of my purse, seeing as they were still damp from my earlier mishap.
She complimented me on being very well behaved, and then walked me out to
the front desk, with her hand caressing my bottom the whole time.

   As I arrived at the desk, Dr Forrest asked her receptionist to send a
copy of my report from the check-up to my guardian, Master Mark, then I
said good-bye, and I would see them next year, walking out in to the car
park with a cool breeze blowing right up my skirt.

   This account is also posted on my blog site
http://shellysden.blogspot.co.uk/